Cinderella Man
by Bethofbells
Summary: Short multi chapter angsty/smutty fic. I hope to have it completed BEFORE the next episode, since it's set just after TLAP. Enjoy. Currently rated M for future chapter.
1. Hot Then Cold

**A/N: this will be a short multi chapter, probably angst filled (someone i know wants some angst smut, so here we go, although it's not in chapter 1) and a.t.m. i don't know if it will have a happy ending. Hoping to finish and post all the chapters before next week's episode :O we'll see if that happens. Please, feel free to leave any reviews or comments that you have. I love them so so much and I constantly reread them, also suggestions are always welcome.**

Danny felt his irritation level rising as his palms began to sweat, his heart beating a little too quickly. She kept giving him the cold shoulder, this time literally spinning on her heel to exit the room only seconds after she'd entered it. And why? Just because he was sitting there already, eating his lunch.

He didn't get it, they were doing semi-okay now, weren't they? What was this sudden about face in behavior? He hadn't done anything to piss her off, and if he had, this wasn't how she usually reacted anyway. Where was the confrontation? God damn it all, he missed the confrontation.

Last week had marked some strange turning point for them. She'd finally begun to look at him with something other than sadness in her eyes, even giving him a small chuckle when he said something tremendously erroneous about her favorite reality tv show. He'd felt the vise clamped around his heart ease just a bit.

But all the progress was gone now. In the space of a couple days, she'd just backed even further away from him, closing him out even more completely than before. He slammed down his empty coffee cup, deciding that if she wouldn't confront him, then he'd just have to be the one to start the conversation.

In front of her door in a matter of seconds, he pushed away the fluttering uncertainty he felt in his chest. He had to do it this way, things couldn't continue on this path.

The door swung open soundlessly, the perfectly oiled hinges not making a squeak. She didn't even look up from her file, head still bent forward as she scribbled little notations along the edges. Still concentrating on the task at hand, she said, "Yes?"

One word? One curt little word, clipped short by irritation. It pissed Danny off. There was no reason for her to be treating him like this, not after they'd begun to get along again. He carefully shut the door behind him. "What's your deal, Mindy?"

"My deal?" Finally she tore her attention away from the work in front of her, picking up her pen, running the bottom of it across her lip, lost in thought. "I have no DEAL, Danny. I'm just a busy successful woman, trying to have it all, much like Hillary Clinton." She waved the pen in the air, as if granting him permission to speak. "Anything else? I have work to do, you know." She looked back down, totally dismissing him.

Ignoring the fairly obvious sign that she wanted him gone, he stepped forward, pulling out one of the ornate white chairs in front of her desk, sitting down rather heavily. "No. I'm pretty sure you have a DEAL, avoiding me completely the last couple days. I thought we were past this. I thought we were friends again."

She pursed her lips, as though holding in an avalanche of words. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before opening them once more, plastering a toothy fake smile across her face. "So, friend, what's new in your life? Oh wait, don't tell me, it's all over the office."

Danny frowned, suddenly feeling like he'd been outmaneuvered. A fine sheen of perspiration settled on his brown, the temperature in the room rising a little. He cleared his throat. "Uh, look, Sally and me, we're just... It's not exactly... I mean, I didn't announce it or anything. People just... know." He finished lamely, sighing as he heard the words leave his mouth. He was doomed.

She nodded, the slightly insane looking pseudo smile still not leaving her face. "Yes, yes, very nice. Danny. Good for you, and for Sally. I hope you're very happy together. Now, please, get the hell out of my office before I lose my shit and throw you out." The unsettling way in which she uttered the words, still smiling, but not with her eyes, unnerved Danny.

He got up, moving awkwardly as he attempted to put her chair back where it had been. He almost tipped it over, jerking at the last minute to catch it, sitting it upright once again.

"Just leave it!" She barked at him.

Releasing his grasp on the chair, he whirled around, flinging the door open, resisting the urge to slam it as he made his exit. The sound of glass rattling in the door would have been satisfying, but he didn't want to explain his behavior to Betsy or anyone else for that matter.

He would have stayed and argued too, but he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on. The whole Sally mess had spun completely out of his control. He shouldn't have given into loneliness, but he was sick and tired of having no one. He hadn't been lying when he'd said Mindy was his only friend. She'd thought it was a line, but it was the stupid and pathetic truth.

* * *

Danny stood uncertainly outside Mindy's door, contemplating whether or not he could just leave for the day. He didn't know there was a look of abject misery on his face, or that he'd been standing there long enough for someone to take notice. Specifically, for Peter to take notice.

Peter looked at him, wanting to ignore his colleague, but finding it impossible. Sure, Danny had brought this entire mess down on himself, and he'd gone after Sally on top of it all, but it was hard to stay really angry at the little Italian man. He was clearly miserable and making all the wrong decisions. "Hey, Danny, I need a second opinion on a patient, could you come here for a minute?" He held up a file he'd just retrieved from Betsy.

Danny looked at him dubiously, still recalling Peter's ire over the whole Sally situation. The pained expression on his face quickly shuttered, he frowned. "Um, well, I have—"

Peter cut him off. "It'll only take a minute, come on." Wheedling slightly, Peter continued. "I mean, I guess I could just ask Mindy, she'd probably—"

"You know what? I have a minute." Danny quickly made his way to Peter's office, following him through the door, he reached for the file. "What is it exactly?"

Peter stalled for a second, trying to remember which patient file he'd even had in his hand. "Uh, yeah, Mrs. Patterson has some worrisome blood pressure numbers."

Danny flipped through the file, noting the readouts from previous visits. He raised one eyebrow, looking back at Peter. "It's only slightly elevated. You can put her on a mild blood pressure medication for the duration of the pregnancy. You know that."

Peter nodded, conceding Danny's point. "Yeah, but she's got it in her head that the medication might not be good for the baby. Thinks it'll cause, like, vestigial limbs, or behavior problems later in life. She doesn't want her little girl to grow up and become a John Mayer fan."

Danny was incredulous. "What? The risks regarding the medication are far less than the risks associated with having high blood pressure during pregnancy. Did you tell her that the medication you'd prescribe is so mild that it's not even used to treat high blood pressure in normal patients anymore, because it has so little effect?"

Peter nodded. "Some people don't know what's good for them." He looked pointedly at Danny, the tone of his voice suddenly shifting.

Danny snapped the file shut, tossing it on Peter's desk. "Alright, Peter, save it. I don't need to hear any more of this. Your sister is an adult, she'll make her own decisions." His frustration surfaced again. The urge to storm out of Peter's office held at bay for a moment by the desire to get something off his chest. "And you know what? I'm sick and tired of being the bad guy. I don't go out in the world everyday just _looking _for ways to make other people miserable."

Peter frowned. The earnest exasperation in Danny's voice surprised him a little. "Danny—"

"No, just stop. I get it, you and Mindy have your 'Danny is an Asshole' club, and you get together and have drinks and harp about how much of a jerk I am. I don't need to hear it, ok?" He was pacing in front of Peter's desk now, running one hand through his hair. He stopped abruptly, looking straight at Peter. "And I get it, you think Sally will probably become another card carrying member, right?"

There was a part of Peter that was still annoyed over the situation with his sister, and he was even tempted to let Danny think he was being protective of his sibling. But it wasn't the truth, and a small almost inaudible voice inside of him was beginning to make itself known. He supposed some would call it a conscience, ugh. "Look, Sally can take care of herself. I know that, believe me. I just don't think it's fair for you to jump into a relationship like this."

Danny gestured dramatically, looking up at the ceiling. "Is it shocking to think that maybe I never intended for anyone to be unhappy? I don't get up every morning thinking of ways to make other people miserable. It just happens." He looked back down, biting his bottom lip. He shook his head and let out a sad little laugh. "And then _some_ people… " He trailed off.

"Some people?"

"Some people are so mad at me right now that they won't even talk to me, and it pisses me off so much I want to break something, but I can't say anything about it because it's all my fault, and every single little thing I do just makes it worse."

Peter leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands behind his head. "Anyone in particular, Danny?"

He gave in, jerking out one of Peter's chairs and dropping down in his. "Why does she have to be so mad? Things ended weeks ago, she seemed so blasé about the whole thing, and now she won't even look at me. She's hot then cold, the hot again, then cold. It's driving me insane. I just want things the way they were before, and she's being completely uncooperative. Did she not expect me to ever date again?"

Danny's voice broke a little on his last question, and he looked away, taking a sudden interest in the questionable paintings on the walls of Peter's office.

Peter sighed. "Look, you need to lay off of her for a little bit, ok? She had a really bad time with this last dickweed."

Danny's head snapped back around at breakneck speed, glaring at Peter. "She's dating?" He caught himself, embarrassed at the volume of his question. "I mean, uh, what do you mean 'a bad time'?"

Peter leaned back in his chair again, this time casually propping his feet up on his desk. "Mindy and I are like bros ok, so I was her wingman last night. We went out looking for some strange."

Danny's lip curled up in disgust. "You what?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about. Anyway, she chats up this guy, charms the hell out of him in that weird I-might-be-insane-but-I'm-cute way that she has, and you know, mission accomplished."

Danny felt jealousy course through him and strained not to show it. His foot tapped impatiently as he listened to Peter talk. "So? She got some 'strange' as you said." The word tasted like rotten meat in his mouth, and he fought to urge to get up and storm out.

He was fuming. So, she slept with some random guy. For what? To prove a point? To who? He couldn't get the idea out of his head. He began to fidget with the clasp on his watch, biting the inside of his cheek before he looked back up at Peter.

"Yeah, but you know Mindy, she couldn't just do what I told her, let it be some sort of cathartic experience, a one-time deal. This guy left his scarf at her apartment, and her delusion just completely took over."

"Delusion?"

Peter nodded sadly. "She calls it 'The Cinderella.' When someone leaves something at your place because they want an excuse to talk to you again, to do the nasty and whatnot." He shook his head, giving Danny a knowing look. "I mean, I told her that guys don't do that, it was just an accident, but she wouldn't listen."

Danny, in spite of the swirling sensation in his stomach, the jealousy making his chest tight, leaned forward so he could hear more. This was the most he'd had of her in so long. "The Cinderella?" He grasped the arms of the chair. Could it be possible..? He gave his head a little shake. No. The last time she'd been at his place, neither of them had any inkling that things were going to end. There wouldn't have been a reason for it. He swallowed, hating himself for the thoughts that ran through his head. "And?"

Peter shrugged. "What do you think? Of course she ignored me and basically stalked him. Turns out he's a married man, and a constantly philandering one at that. It wasn't a pretty confrontation."

"Married!" Danny was out of his chair, leaning across Peter's desk. "Who is this guy? What's his name?"

Peter groaned. "Look, it's over with. All I'm saying is, cut her some slack. She's feeling kind of rejected lately. She's said some things that I never thought I would hear come from her."

Danny retreated from Peter's desk, feeling deflated. "Like what?"

Peter frowned, not wanting to divulge too many things heard in confidence. "Well, the gist of it is, she feels… like she's not good enough. Which, you have to admit, that's not something you typically hear from little miss I'm-going-to-marry-prince-William, right?"

Danny's desire to march into Mindy's office and confront her about the thing with the married man evaporated, and was immediately replaced with guilt. "No, it isn't." Shit. This was bad. He began to see how the whole Sally situation looked to Mindy. Like he had hidden Mindy in a closet and was not proudly putting Sally on display. He suddenly felt sick.

Turning away from Peter abruptly, he called out over his shoulder. "I'm going home for the day, I don't feel well. Can you, uh… take care of my last few patients for today?" Not waiting for Peter's answer, he slipped into his office, grabbing his coat and messenger bag.

Peter sauntered over to Betsy's desk, watching as Danny strode to the elevator and punched the button. Betsy glanced up, watching as the elevator doors closed. "Where is he going? He has an appointment in twenty minutes."

"He has some stuff he needs to take care of. Call and see if you can reschedule, if not I'll take care of it."

Betsy nodded. "Dr. C's been acting so strange lately. He looks tired all the time, and when he smiles, it's like he's been waiting for someone to take a picture for too long, and he can't make it look real anymore."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, he's an idiot."


	2. Did You Think Of Me?

**A/N: woo hoo, second chapter in one day. I have a deadline for this fic. I hope you like this chapter, and i adore the comments people are leaving. Please feel free to continue :D.**

It was quiet and loud at the same time, the way it only is in the middle of the city. He could hear a dog barking, somewhere off in the distance, incessantly. The sound of traffic, honking horns, people unexpectedly accelerating, the occasional yell from some pedestrian, it all wafted up to his open window. This constant barrage of sounds, and yet no sound at all was something he should have been used to. He'd lived with it for so long.

But he wasn't. He didn't like that the air inside of his apartment was so devoid of motion that the world outside felt free to intrude, sound waves filtering through his walls, seeping under his door. He didn't like hearing the couple next door chat as they walked down the hall, or the ticking clock that hung on the wall in his kitchen.

He didn't like any of it, and it was this exactly cacophony of silence that made him seek out company wherever he could get it. Sally had been so easy to justify. She'd been eager and willing, texting him the most inappropriate things, making it clear that she was just looking for something fun and casual, something to bide the time until she left the city.

He'd thought, maybe for a second, that having someone else here, in this space, making noise, would help. That maybe another warm body would drive away the silence filled to the brim with white noise. But no matter how raucous the laughter emanating from the tv was, or how constant Sally's stream of vocalized thought seemed to be, Danny still couldn't escape how empty his place felt.

He can't deny the desperate way he'd gone after her, pulling her through the door barely after opening it. Kissing her in a searching way, never really finding whatever he was looking for. She'd smiled up at him, a self-satisfied little smirk on her face. "Those sexts really got you hot and bothered."

For a moment he hadn't even known what she was talking about. He blinked at her in confusion, stifling a stupid sounding "huh?" The image of Peter recoiling from his phone flashed into his mind, reminding him of the discomfort he'd felt at being pursued in that way. He'd wondered what she would have done if she ever found out about Peter seeing the pictures. Instead of mentioning it, he merely nodded, pretending she was right as he pulled her into his room.

The sex was over quickly, and in another time he would have been ashamed over how little it concerned him that she probably hadn't really enjoyed it much, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care. She hadn't said anything either, simply turning over, reaching for the remote to the tv. He felt sick, a cold wave of self-loathing crashing over him. The dispassionate way he felt about Sally was eerily similar to his last days with Christina, and he hated himself for backpedalling like this.

It didn't help that there were a million little things that reminded him there should be someone else here with him. She'd flicked through the channels landing briefly on _The Bachelor,_ pausing briefly to comment on how stupid reality television was, before settling on some crude comedy, disturbingly reminiscent of Peter's humor. Sally had rooted right into his bed, staking claim to the left side without a word, even though his book and reading glasses were on the nightstand beside her. He'd felt completely disjointed and out of place in his own bedroom, mentally recoiling when she'd snuggled up next to him.

He hadn't called her since, and even now, sitting in his living room listening to the formerly comforting sounds of the city rake across his ears like nails on a chalkboard, he wasn't tempted to call her again. The noise she provided wasn't enough to block out the sound of his own errant thoughts, in fact it had inspired about a hundred more.

Leaving work early had been a bad idea. There wasn't anywhere for him to go, and he hadn't been able to make his feet turn in the direction of home, his apartment populated by too many ghosts. The smell of Mindy's shampoo on his pillow, even though he'd washed it. The seemingly endless supply of bobby pins he found in the strangest places, one in his refrigerator, another in the pages of the book he'd been reading. There were too many pieces of her, and thinking back to his conversation with Peter, it made him heartsick that there wasn't anything returnable, nothing he could latch onto as an excuse to march over to her apartment. There was no glass slipper for him to clutch to his chest as he confronted her.

He frowned at the thought, resting his head in his hands, rubbing a little too hard at his eyes, the white auras exploding behind his closed lids. A persistent little thought, quietly sitting in the back of his mind, began to circle once again. Surely there was something, it's impossible that of all the things she'd toted over her in the giant "overnight" bag, she'd not left a single thing. Whether or not it was on purpose he could deal with later, but if there was at least one thing, then he'd have an excuse.

Mere seconds passed before he jumped up from the couch, grasping the leather cushions, tossing them over his shoulders, searching within the recesses of the furniture, for something, anything. Unsuccessful in the living room, he headed straight for the bathroom, one of the places she'd lingered when staying over.

He jerked open all the drawers, a couple of them a little too forcefully, wincing as they completely came free, their contents scattering across the tiles. He painstakingly picked through the debris, wondering at the necessity of so many cotton swabs. Still, he found nothing. He would have been grateful even for a stray tube of lipstick.

He turned, facing the last place he wanted to go. The bedroom. He'd actually been sleeping on the couch since she'd left, unable to face the empty bed, the too smooth sheets. That had been one more reason for Sally. He thought maybe she'd dispel some of the power the room still held. It hadn't worked.

It should have been the first place he looked, logically. Steeling himself, he crossed the threshold. He ransacked his drawers first, even though it seemed unlikely that anything would have made its way next to his neatly folded sweaters, his perfectly mated socks. Soon, his bedroom floor was covered in hastily discarded clothing, and he was still empty handed.

Feeling desperate, he turned to the bed, first snatching up the pillows, even pulling off the cases, just to see if something had wiggled inside, nestling itself next to the white cotton. They quickly joined his clothing on the floor. Tearing at the comforter, he shook it out, pulling the flat sheet along with it, haunted by the memory of her helping him with a task so similar not too long ago.

Panting slightly from his effort, he stopped, staring at the empty bed. The flat expanse empty of everything, a depressingly blank canvas. He felt his throat close up in regret and angrily blinked away the moisture in his eyes.

He stilled, finding that the desperate energy coursing through him had, without warning, disappeared. He was left feeling monumentally stupid, berating himself for such foolish behavior. Being away from her, at least in this way, was something he had enacted. This was all on him. So, looking for some sign, some discarded memento, was possibly the most fruitless thing he'd ever done. She hadn't even known the last night she'd spent at his place was going to be the end. Why would she have left something?

He felt the despair he'd held at bay for so long invade him completely. His legs felt weak beneath him, and he gave in to it, sprawling out in the floor next to his bed. He hadn't cried since that night, since the tears had pooled so ominously in his eyes, blurring her own tear stained image. He had compartmentalized that feeling, tucking it away in some corner of his heart.

It had escaped, released by the sequence of events before him, lying alone in his bedroom floor, friendless. Completely limp, he blinked, the salty liquid running down the sides of his face, dripping down on his hardwood floor. He made no sound, his face held no expression, and the silent tears continued to pour.

He turned to his side, curling up in the fetal position as he stared blankly in front of him. The universe liked to play jokes on Danny, pulling the rug out from under him when he was happy, giving him things he was no longer looking for. A pair of twinkling crystal earrings blinked at him, placed so perfectly next to each other. He stared for a long time, not really believing what he was seeing, accosted by images of them dangling from her delicate ears.

His hand, possessed my some masochistic spirit, reached forward, ignoring the vehement commands of his brain to stay in place. Once he felt the cool crystal under his fingertips, it was impossible for him to continue lying to himself. Safely ensconced in his sweaty palm, he drew them out from underneath the bed, sitting up once again.

They were expensive, probably. She rarely bought anything at a reasonable price, and he supposed she'd want these back. Pulling himself to his feet, clutching the nightstand for support, Danny opened his hand to look down at them once again. Metal and crystal shouldn't tug at him this way. It was cold and unyielding material, but all he could think about was how they'd once been imbued with the warmth of her skin, and now had absorbed the heat from his hands. He was fumbling for connections, and could see that keeping them would be a very bad idea.

Making a decision, he exited his bedroom, stopping only briefly to snatch his keys from the bowl by the door as he shrugged on his coat. He dropped the jewelry carefully into his pocket, making sure to zip it shut. He had to get rid of these things, they were doing terrible things to his composure. He shook his head as he left his building. It was so strange the power these things had over him. They were just objects, inanimate and cold. Insignificant little things, light as a feather. But they weighed on him, burned at his side.

* * *

The cold damp air hit him like a wall, the atmosphere shifting dramatically the closer he got to her building. Some strange unseasonal fog was rolling in off the river, permeating his clothing, settling on his already clammy skin. He'd intended to toss them in the nearest trash can, abandon his plan to see her, to confront her about the things she'd been doing lately.

Each time he passed a trash can, he thought about it, patting the pocket holding them, but he couldn't do it. They got heavier the closer he got. All the things he wanted to say began to play on a loop in his head. He wanted to chastise her for being so reckless with men. This married asshole could have been a serial killer. He wanted to beg her to be his friend again, to not make him have to go to Peter when he needed to know what was wrong. He wanted to apologize, to take back everything he'd said, but he knew that wouldn't happen. The was still a very large part of him that thought this was best for her, as long as she stopped doing these stupid reckless things with assholes. The longer he walked, the more filled with misplaced indignation he became.

She had slept with this guy. This guy, who hadn't made her French toast, who hadn't spent weeks practicing a dance to a stupid song. This guy who hadn't read to her when she was sick, who hadn't done his best yet pathetic British accent just to see her smile. This guy who wore a scarf when it was warm enough to forget about it. This guy with his superfluous articles of clothing. This asshole.

By the time he ascended the steps, he had a scowl firmly planted on his face, a dozen or so vitriolic comments about 'taking things slow' perched on the tip of his tongue. He thanked his lucky stars that he didn't have to buzz her. A sweet old lady, undoubtedly one of Mindy's neighbors actually held the door for him. He hated that. Hated that he was just one of many gentleman callers, that her neighbors didn't even bat an eyelash.

His anger made him irrational, and the way it had so quickly built made him feel reckless. An inhibition he normally only felt in the embrace of half a bottle of whiskey spread through him. The elevator ride was short, and he squeezed through the doors as soon as they slid open, marching down the hall to her door.

He pounded on it, his knuckles scraping against the rough surface, rattling it in the doorframe. "Mindy!" His voice was guttural, filled with some emotion he had no name for.

Prepared to call out again, he continued to knock on the door, opening his mouth to say her name once again as it swung open, and she stared up at him, sleepy yet angry. "What the hell, Danny?" She continued to glare at him, her jaw tensing as she clenched her teeth together. "If I don't want you in my office, what makes you think I want you in my hallway? Get the hell out of here. I swear to god, I will remove you myself. I have a surprising amount of upper body strength."

She stepped out into the hall, grabbing at his shoulders, trying to push him back toward the elevator. Danny's anger flared up again. "What? I'm not welcome. What's the occasion, Lahiri? You already have someone in your apartment?"

She stopped, her eyes wide. "Are you drunk? Why are you acting like this?"

He swallowed, completely forgetting his original reason for coming to her. "I'm not the one acting insane."

"I'm not insane. You're the one yelling in the hallway at midnight. About god knows what."

He laughed bitterly. "Your behavior lately, come on, Mindy. Sleeping with a married man, stalking him? You wouldn't call that insane?"

She gasped, her eyes shocked. "Damn it, Danny. Lower your voice. I have neighbors." She glanced up and down the hall before grabbing his arm dragging back inside her apartment. Shutting the door behind him, she whirled around.

He ignored her outrage, and continued. "How dare you get mad at me over the whole Sally situation, when you're out gallivanting in bars, trolling for guys to hook up with? Hanging out with Peter, acting like a total—"

She interrupted him, pinning him down with a death glare. "Don't you dare!"

He snapped his mouth shut, his currently dormant rational side stirring slightly. "Mindy—"

She stepped up to him, rising on her tiptoes so she could get in his face. "NO! You just shut up, before you say something you regret!" She poked him in the chest. "You think I didn't _want_ to have sex with you? I did. So much, but you were holding back, you couldn't let go of your past. I know you, and some part of me knew you were getting ready to run. "

"What? No. I didn't have doubts until you started playing games."

"Sure, Danny, keep lying to yourself." She was so close to him, her words coming out in little hot breaths against his face, he heaving chest almost bumping up against him, and damn it, he wanted her, just as much as he always had.

He grabbed her, one hand curling around the back of her neck, the other grasping roughly at her hip. He slid his palm around to her ass, squeezing none too gently. "Like you keep lying to yourself." He raked his teeth against her neck, whispering hotly in her ear. "Tell me you didn't think of me. That you didn't wish it was me."

He pulled back, noting her flashing eyes and flared nostrils. There was a fire there, mostly fueled by anger, even a small amount of hatred, but desire bubbled close to the surface. She fisted the material of his shirt with one hand, the other slipping down and greedily cupping the bulge beneath his belt. "Oh? You think so? What about you? Did you close your eyes and think of the smooth brown skin you never got to know as you thrust into Sally?"

She squeezed him and he groaned, capturing her lips with his own. He kissed, desperately searching once again. Only this time he found what he was looking for and devoured it in huge gulping breaths between kisses. His hands tugged at her night shirt and she batted them away, reaching forward pulling at his shirt instead.

He reached between them, sliding up beneath the hem of her nightshirt, cupping at the soft cotton between her legs. He felt her moan against his mouth, the air rushing out of her nose in a hot gust against his cheek. He pulled away from her kiss. "Did you fuck him in your bed?"

She clenched her legs around his hand, narrowing her eyes at him. "Where else would I fuck him? I'm a classy lady, remember?"

She gyrated against his palm, and he groaned with the damp cotton pressed against his skin. "Are you thinking about him now?"

She let out a short clipped laugh. "Maybe. You thinking about little Miss Prentice?" Her words were filled with anger.

Rather than answer, he clenched his jaw, pulling her close to him, taking matters into his own hands. He pushed the cotton material aside, slipping his finger into the molten heat. She gasped, her expression softening for a moment before she clenched her eyes shut. He whispered in her ear. "Maybe."

He pulled at her, dragging her toward her bedroom door. "When I'm done with you, you won't be able to fuck anyone in that bed without thinking of me."


	3. Stay

**A/N: A little shorter than the previous chapters (I like the stopping place though), Definite M here, almost the entire thing. So if you're not into that, skip it I guess (let's be honest, if you started reading this one, you wanted smut :P) Please feel free to leave comments telling me what you think. I'm kind of reveling in the angst, and hope to finish this story before the next ep airs. Maybe one or two more chapters :D. I love you all.**

He dragged her across the threshold of her room, sucking hungrily at her lips, grunting as she unzipped his fly and slipped her hand beneath the fabric. Jerking away, he reached down, grabbing her wrist roughly. "I don't think so."

He held her at arm's length, staring for a moment, plotting something sinister. She swallowed involuntarily. This was a side of Danny she'd never seen. The desire darkening his eyes blotted out any other emotion, and she felt like she was looking at a stranger. She backed away, for the first time regretting the path that they'd chosen to take tonight.

He reached back, catching the door and slamming it shut, relishing the sound of glass rattling in the frame. "What's the matter, Mindy? Is this too much?" His tone was taunting as he slowly approached her. "If you want some gentle lover, someone who'll look to you for approval before every touch, well, I'll leave right now, because that's not happening." Finally he was close once again, skimming his fingertips across the exposes skin of her thigh. His voice gruff, he asked, "Was that how he was?" He couldn't hide it, the disgust dripping from his words.

Her nostrils flared as she snorted derisively. "Fuck you, Danny." The momentary hesitation she felt evaporated like water droplets flicked onto red hot coals.

He was vibrating with anger and pent up desire. "Do you want me to leave?" He struggled to retain his gruff demeanor, making his words clipped. He wouldn't stay here with her if she didn't really want this. She wouldn't have another item to add to his cons list.

Mindy frowned, mentally cataloging all the things she'd once thought she loved about him, noting that even in his anger over their situation, he still put her first. There was pain in her chest, an overwhelming urge to break down sobbing. This dark stranger in front of her was only a shadow of the person she'd come to know, but she still felt the unbridled desire coursing through her. The throbbing heat between her legs, the electrified currents racing along her skin begging for his touch.

Unable to vocalize her answer, she took a step back, the breath catching in her chest as she saw a brief flash of pain in his eyes before the shutters slammed down again. She caught the hem of her shirt with the tips of her fingers and quickly drew it over her head, letting the soft cotton drift to the floor. "What are you waiting for? Take your damn clothes off."

Danny shook his head and he stepped closer to her. Only the smallest cushion of air crackled, electricity bouncing between them. Reaching out, wound his fingers around her arm. They pressed hard into her, and she grunted as he dragged her against him. The rough sensation of his clothing abrading her skin elicited a gasp from Mindy. He slipped his free hand between them, splaying his fingers across her lower abdomen, skimming her belly briefly before slipping beneath her thin cotton panties. "We'll get to that."

Her eyes drifted shut as his fingers delved inside of her, she frowned in concentration, trying to find a way to take control again, but failing. She was surrounded by a tingling sensation, it shot through her body with each stroke of his fingers.

He pushed her back onto the bed, sweeping the items piled there haphazardly into the floor. His lips found their way to her neck, nipping hungrily at her skin. Tasting her once again after so long was almost too much. Nothing tasted like her. This odd combination of bitter lotion against his tongue, paired with something organic, salty and sweet at the same time. He was starved for her. He traveled down further, raking his teeth against her exposed collar bone. He laved and sucked at her. He'd leave marks, the very thought made him hard.

Burying his face in the hollow of her neck, he inhaled her, breathed in the scent of exotic flowers and musky desire. It was as though he'd finally found the thing he'd been looking for, and he drew it in as deeply as he could, almost hating the need to exhale. He slipped away from her just enough to slide her lone garment down her legs, stopping reverently at her knees to plant a couple kisses there. She felt his eyelashes flicker across her skin, and was again shaken by the urge to cry.

Danny's heart was in his throat, the impulse to be gentle, to treat her like a treasure was overwhelming, but he wanted to prove a point, to erase all of the other people that had been here before him. He withdrew, quickly jerking the garment the rest of the way down, tossing it carelessly to the side.

Her room was dark, a pale glow emanated from the lone window, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to see every inch of her, see the lost expression on her face when she came, see the way her chest heaved when he coaxed pleasure of her. He wanted to memorize the contours of her body, the tiny blemishes on her smooth skin, to lock away little pieces of her in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling it was his only opportunity.

He kicked his shoes off and climbed into the bed beside her, hooking one jean clad leg over her knee, pulling her legs apart as his fingers found their way once again to her center, slipping in and out dexterously, brushing against the apex. Reaching out with his free hand, he flicked on her bedside lamp.

She instinctively shied away from the source of light, frowning even as she felt a wave of pleasure cascade across her body. "Danny, turn that off." Her words were strangled, but forceful.

He shook his head. "It's not going to be like that. Not with me." He jaw clenched, and he delved deeper, angling ever so slightly. She gasped, her hips involuntarily rocking against him as her eyes rolled back. She reached up, clinging to any part of him she could reach, the nails of one hand digging into his bicep through his shirt, the other fisting in the material at his chest. He felt her shudder against him, clench around his fingers as his name involuntarily breached her lips.

It was exactly what he'd been striving for, to hear her gasp his name in the throes of passion, to have some archaic stamp of ownership. He'd thought somehow it could eradicate the knowledge that she'd so recently been like this with someone else, that she'd felt more comfortable with a stranger than himself. It didn't. It just made his chest constrict, tight with imprisoned emotion. An unreasonable jealousy coursed through him when he thought of all the other names that had echoed against these walls.

He stood up, hastily divesting himself of his clothing, tossing it angrily in the floor. He stood in front of her, jaw set grimly as he stared down at her dazed expression. She was slowly floating back down to earth, the stars in her eyes fading as her heart rate dropped. She was so beautiful, glowing under the soft light of her bedside lamp. He was angry again, but this time it was mostly at himself. He'd thrown this away, coward that he was, and now he was ruining anything else that could have possibly been between them, but he couldn't stop himself. "What was his name?"

Some sick part of him needed to know the shape of her lips as she'd called out the asshole's name, how many impassioned syllables escaped her as someone else rocked into her. She glared at him, rising to her knees, refusing to answer his question. "Why did you come here, Danny?"

It was his turn to clam up, ignoring her bitterly posed question. He reached for her once again, forcefully pushing her back down on the bed, capturing her lips with his. The kiss was bruising, a desperate attempt to tell her what he was feeling without uttering the dangerous words. His hands grabbed at her, hooking behind her knees as he pulled her legs apart. He tore himself away from her mouth. "Do you want me to leave?"

She frowned, hooking her legs up around his hips. "What is this? Some sort of power trip? You want me to beg you to stay? Is that it?" She shook her head. "Do you want to leave?" It took everything she had in her power to keep the tears out of her voice. There wasn't anything she wanted more than to wake up next to him again, to wake up with the smell of his cologne in her nose, his unrelenting body heat totally enveloping her.

He snapped, grabbing her hand he jerked to him, molding her fingers around his cock. "What do you think?" He was breathing heavily. "I couldn't leave now if I wanted to."

She narrowed her eyes at him, taking his non-answer at face value. Curling her fingers more decisively around him, she began a slow stroking motion. She felt his hips twitch beneath her legs and heard him suck in a sharp breath. He growled out her name.

Not satisfied with the sensation beneath her fingers, she withdrew, touching herself briefly before returning to him, this time a slick lubrication under her touch. He moaned, tugging at her hips briefly before focusing his eyes on her once again. "Damn it, Mindy!" Things were spinning wildly out of his control, pleasure swirling in his gut, fogging his thoughts. "Enough!" He knocked her hand away and reached beneath her, palming her ass as he shifted her hips forward.

He wanted her at his mercy, not the other way around. He was the boss, damn it, no matter what she thought. He pushed into her, hard, quickly finding a frantic rhythm that suited both of them. He leaned forward, grinding against her clit as he rocked back and forth, her skin slipping against him. He craved the skin to skin contact of her breasts against his chest, her hard nipples raking against his skin. Slowly everything around him disappeared. He couldn't remember why he was so angry, so heartsick. The ticking clock faded away, and the sounds of the city were wrapped in an impermeable gauze. All he could hear was her involuntary moaning matching his own primitive grunts, only feel the slick heat surrounding him, her thighs clenching around his hips. He needed this to last forever, but he could already feel himself nearing the pinnacle, and nothing he could do would delay his arrival.

She said his name again, and this time it sounded like a prayer, tears streaming down the side of her face as she arched against him. He found his own release, spilling hotly inside of her, burying his face once again in her sweat drenched skin, muffling her name as it escaped his lips.

They both collapsed, against her soft bedding, panting desperately against one another. He felt her move against him, a slight tremor beneath him. He pulled back slightly, curious to know the motion's cause. She had one hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut. She was crying, sobbing really, trying to hide it from him.

He felt his heart being carved out of his chest. He was devastated. The regret in her muffled cries matched his own chiding thoughts. A voice whispered to him, berating him for not being able to predict this, for not being able to see how it was inevitable that he'd cause her this pain. She hadn't wanted this, she'd wanted some kind of forever. Something he didn't have inside of him. Being the cause of her misery filled him so full of self-loathing, there wasn't room for anything else. She was such a naturally happy person, and he always seemed to be the cause of her tears. "Mindy." His voice was soft, for the first time that night, but he couldn't continue.

She shook her head, turning away from the light cascading over them as she threw one arm up to hide her face. "No."

He rolled away from her, wanting so badly to draw her into his arms, but not knowing how. She curled up, facing away from him, and continued to cry. He waited, expecting her to angrily eject him from her bed, her life. She said nothing, instead quietly slipping out of the bed, dragging the comforter with her, she left her own bedroom and locked herself in the bathroom.

Danny stared up at the ceiling, watching the fan turn in lazy circles. Each revolution, a second that passed in which he hoped he'd feel something different. He felt like the worst sort of man, incomparable to any of the other assholes she'd ever tried to be with. Nothing had changed, he was still bad for her, only now they'd never be friends again.


	4. I'm No Prince

**A/N: Ah, yet another chapter. I'm liking this fic. I kind of revel in angst. Sorry if that's not the case for others. Don't worry though, I do hope (fingers crossed) that I'll have this fic completed before Tuesday. I'm kind of floored by the response that it's gotten so far. (I honestly read and reread reviews all day :P) I really appreciate anyone taking the time to stop and leave a comment about anything at all. You all really are the best.**

Ch 4

She wrapped the blanket around her like a cocoon, pulling it up over her head as she slid to the floor, back against the door. Only her toes poked out, touching the cold tile of the bathroom floor, sending a shiver up her spine.

Lying in the bed with him, coming down of the endorphin rush that only good sex can give, the gravity of her situation had hit her like a Mack truck, flattening her, pushing all the air out of her lungs. She'd felt the sobs starting in her diaphragm and had tried to stifle them, but they'd escaped, spilling out from between her fingers as she squeezed her eyes shut. He looked so hurt by it too, and she couldn't fathom what he was thinking. It was easier just to leave.

Why had he even come? The question had been on the tip of her tongue since she'd let him in, but it never passed+ her lips, and he hadn't volunteered any information. She felt the tears come again, little hiccups interspersing her silent cries. Nothing had changed really. It was obvious Peter had been running his god damned mouth about the Lee incident, and Danny had reacted poorly, but there had been no words exchanged that made her think there was anything other than jealousy fueled machismo in his actions.

But, she'd missed him so terribly that she'd been willing to take anything she could get, no matter how shortsighted it was. It was only now, sprawled in her bathroom floor, crying like a little girl, that she was filled with regret. She'd had this sweet little fantasy of the two of them, soft edges and glowing lights. A dream scene shot through a soft focus lens. In that brief period of time when he'd actually been hers, she'd constructed this fantasy of gentle touches and easy sighs. It was so juvenile, but she'd really thought their first time would have been special.

But instead, she'd been fucked, thoroughly and well. She pressed her legs together, still feeling the ache from the pleasure he'd given her. He'd been skilled, generous even, but she still felt heartsick. Every time she'd looked into his eyes, she hadn't been able to see him, just the shuttered façade he'd worn when they'd first met. His lips hadn't twitched up in to that sexy half smile she'd seen so often lately. The worst part was his eyes. She hadn't seen anything behind them, except for the occasional flash of pain when he let his guard down. Where were the lambent eyes, filled involuntarily with affection? Where was her Danny?

She pushed the blanket away from her face, suddenly finding the claustrophobic warmth of her own breath too much to handle. She let the blanket fall from her shoulders, slipping to the floor in a heap. A draft, with no apparent source, skittered across her skin, leaving her cold, but she didn't grab the material again. Instead, she stood up, resting her palms on the cool porcelain of her sink.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she studied the puffiness around her eyes, the faint, almost invisible scratches on her skin where he'd kissed her, the stubble she hadn't even noticed abrading her. There were marks on her upper arm, barely noticeable, only one shade different from her natural skin tone. He'd marked her, and she wanted to be angry about it, but she couldn't find it in herself. She knew there were scratches along his back where she'd raked her nails, little dark spots at his collar bone where she'd lingered too long, greedily trying to devour him.

The memory of her lips against his skin set heat swirling in her stomach. She reached up, tentatively touching her lips. They were still swollen, puffy and sensitive. She missed him, the feel of him under her mouth, her hands.

What had he been trying to prove? That he was better than some asshole she fucked after just meeting? That he was just like that asshole? She didn't really understand his motivations. Whatever this was, it sure as hell hadn't been to win her back. Not that he would have to _win_ her back at all. He was the one who'd left. What was his motivation? Did he regret his decision?

She plucked a tissue from the box sitting on the counter, wiping the mess of tears off her cheeks. Maybe Peter's inability to keep his trap shut had pushed Danny over the edge. If there was any chance that Danny had missed her companionship as much as she'd missed his. Had he sought her out, losing control in the face of his jealousy? Mindy felt a swell of hope in her chest, and struggled to push it back down. She was done scheming and playing games. For once in her adult life she would just be straightforward when it came to her love life. She would ask him what he was feeling, and hope that he would open up again, let her see him.

Spinning around she plucked her fluffy pink robe off its hook, draping it over her shoulders. Her hand trembled at the doorknob, the metal seemed hot under her touch. She took a shaky breath, grasping and twisting, closing her eyes briefly as she glided back into her bedroom. "Danny, I think we should…" She trailed off as her eyes opened. He wasn't there.

Her stomach dropped to her toes, and she knew.

Shaking her head, she darted into the living room, looking past it into her kitchen. She felt her throat close up, the tears pricking behind her eyes. "No, no, no…" She jerked the door to her closet open, flicking the light on. Nothing but sparkly skirts and a rainbow array of tops greeted her. Suddenly she couldn't take it, the atmosphere inside her apartment was suffocating her. It was a vacuum, all the oxygen had been sucked out and she felt like her lungs were collapsing.

Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled toward the window, she fumbled with the latch, heaving at the sash. Crawling out onto the fire escape she took big gulping breaths, sobbing in between. She curled up in the corner, gazing down at the traffic below her, trying to find some comfort in the sound of the city around her. She tried to tell herself this was just a minor setback, that there were thousands of other men in the city, that there was still someone out there for her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd already found him. He just didn't want her.

* * *

Sometimes Danny wished he didn't live in the middle of the city. It would be nice, occasionally, to go outside at night and look up at the sky and just see stars. Billions and billions of stars, maybe even be able to distinguish one constellation from another, find swirling patterns in the Milky Way. It would be comforting to see the vast expanse of the universe, be held in awe by its infiniteness.

He wanted to feel insignificant, like nothing he said or did meant anything, had any effect on the world at large. Instead, he stood on the roof to his apartment building, buffeted by the damp cold air, clamping an unlit cigarette in his mouth as he gazed up at the sky, stars blotted out by the city lights around him.

He'd been a fool, blinded by jealousy, drunk on his feelings for her. It had locked all the things he'd wanted to say in his chest, prompting him to act in ways he regretted. He'd lain in her bed, waiting for what seemed like an eternity, weighing his options, wanting to check on her, but also not disturb her. He could tell something had completely shifted between them, that this was a turning point, a vital moment in the story of Danny and Mindy. The ways in which he could irrevocably destroy their fragile relationship had filled his mind, set his heart beating wildly.

* * *

Danny felt the sweat still slicking his body, his skin sticking to the sheet beneath him, the fan whipping air across him. He shivered. Turning, he buried his nose into the pillow under his head. It smelled of flowers, her shampoo, triggering sense memories. He could feel her in his arms again, his nose buried in her hair. He'd made a mistake coming here tonight, a horrible combination of jealousy and desperation propelling him toward her.

He sat up, drawing his knees up a little, resting his elbows on them. His head hung between his arms. He'd wait. She couldn't stay locked away forever. At some point she'd have to come out, and he'd be here.

It was quiet again, the ticking of the clock the only thing he could hear. His face twisted into a sad excuse for a smile. Mindy's apartment must have been better insulated than his own. There were no invasive sounds of the city creeping through the walls, just the rattling of his chest as he drew in a deep breath. He knew she was there, one wall away, hopefully composing herself, or even better, composing a strongly worded monologue. He'd give anything to see her eyes lit with passion, a fire there letting him know that she would be ok. If she wanted to fight, he could work with that. It was the brokenhearted resignation he'd felt as she'd turned away from him that he couldn't handle.

He knew so many of their problems revolved around their inability to communicate. She talked and talked, but rarely said what she was feeling, and he was a closed book, hoping that she could just guess why he did the things he did. It obviously didn't work, he realized that now. He needed to know how she felt, and he had to tell her that he loved her, to lay his heart out on the line, and hope that she felt the same, or at least that she could feel the same. Even now, he didn't know if she really wanted him, or if she just didn't want to be single.

He got out of the bed, digging through the pile of clothing on the floor for his pants. He saw the cuff of one leg poking out from beneath a pile of dresses that had been unceremoniously swept off the bed. He yanked at it, pulling it out. The slippery silks and satins shifted as he withdrew his clothing, and something familiar peeked out at him.

He dragged his pants up over his hips, quickly zipping and buttoning them. His eyes never left the orange fuzz half hidden beneath a neon green swatch of silk. Snatching up the thing, not totally believing his eyes until he had it in his hands, Danny felt his stomach drop. He'd left it here, and she hadn't said a world. Not one word in the weeks that they'd been split.

Peter's recollection of Mindy's behavior, her description of 'The Cinderella' played over and over again in his head. He suddenly felt like he had the answer he'd been looking for all along, and other little events began to flash into his mind, things that held the same meaning. He felt the heat burning in his ears, embarrassed that he'd been so close to spilling his guts, when he clearly didn't even rate high enough for even the simplest of her schemes.

He really should have seen it. How many times had she concocted these elaborate setups to get the man she loved? Hell, Cliff had broken up with her, told her that he didn't trust her, and it had only taken one day for her to initiate pursuit again. She wasn't the kind of woman to take no for an answer, and she'd acquiesced to him with only the smallest of arguments.

He dropped the thing back to her bed, looking for his shirt. He found it, quickly slipping on his shoes, picking up the jacket he'd so hastily tossed across the room. He unzipped the pocket, drawing out the little crystal earrings. The objects that had started him on this ill-fated night out. They were light in his palm, twinkling in the reflected light of her bedside lamp. He wondered idly if she had even missed them. Clearly they hadn't been left on purpose.

He found a piece of stationary in her nightstand, and scrawled out a quick note, his hand shaking as he drew the ink across the page. He set it back down, carefully laying the jewelry on top so she'd see it eventually. He stood there for a moment, fighting the urge to snatch them back up, to keep a piece of her, even if this was the end.

He let out a long sigh, running his hand along the back of his neck, tension riding there an ominous sign for the night to come. He stepped back from the little table, turning back to the bed to grab the thing he'd found before he strode out her door.

* * *

He wondered idly what such a young child was doing on the subway at such a late time. The short little guy clung to his mother's leg, swaying with the motion of the rocking car. He kept peeking furtively at Danny, occasionally tugging at his mother's sleeve. Finally she bent down, whispering something in his ear. He looked up at her with big eyes, and then back to Danny. He pointed at the small stuffed giraffe under Danny's arm.

The child's mother cast Danny a wary glance, noting his mussed hair and five o'clock shadow. She turned her child away from him, chastising him about how impolite it was to point at strangers. Danny couldn't care less. He turned in the opposite direction. The other end of the car was empty, he clung to the pole, staring at his reflection in the window, listening to the incessant racket of the train. The click clack seemed to match the cadence of his faltering heartbeat.


	5. The Rain Pours

**A/N: Hello again! sorry for the delay in updating. I think I've found the final path of this story, and there should be one, at the most two, more chapters. :D I hope you like it. Please feel free to leave reviews and comments. I find them really encouraging and truly appreciate when someone takes the time to do so.**

The tears had stopped a while ago. Her face felt tight where the salty trails had dried. She didn't have anything left in her but a bottomless hollow chasm, her heart echoing as it struggled to beat. This feeling was the evil step sister of the emptiness she'd felt the night he'd left her the first time. She was angry with herself for letting hope in, however briefly. Danny had told her, emphatically, that a man wouldn't leave someone he really wanted to be with.

So many times in the weeks they'd been apart, she'd been tempted to begin concocting some grand scheme, some manipulative yet well-meaning plan to get him back, but each time she felt the ideas begin swim around in her head, she remembered those angrily spat words, flying out into the desert night.

The wind picked up, setting the blanket to flapping around her legs, a wave of goose bumps chasing along her skin. She'd been out here too long, her toes were beginning to feel numb, the metal grating against the soles of her feet set her skin to tingling. Her fingers clutching the blanket to her chest, stiff from lack of motion. She continued to stare blankly at the yellow lights flickering in the windows across the street, wondering idly if any of the people inside could see her.

Surely not, somebody would have called the cops about what surely looked like a dead body, slumped against the cold brick, feet dangling off the railing. A short hysterical laugh escaped her lips, followed swiftly by another. Soon she was laughing uncontrollably, the maniacal sound scaring her somewhat. She was disconnected from the sound of her voice, observing from a distance. What insanity was this?

It was only as the laughter morphed into desperate cries that she understood. A distant clap of thunder rumbled in the distance, the air crackling with static electricity, setting individual hairs floating away from her face. Dry heaving sobs doubled her over as the wind wrapped her hair around her neck, flinging the locks in her face. She'd been lying to herself. She wasn't empty, at all, she was full to nearly bursting with anger and sadness. How dare he do this to her?

The rain came in a burst, sheets of water whipped up by the wind soaking her, chilling her to the bone. The roar of it filling her ears as the droplets splashed against her skin, plastering hair to her face and shoulders. She struggled to get herself upright, clinging to the heavy wet material of her blanket as she crawled back to her window, lifting herself over the sash. With one final shove she spilled into the floor of her closet, feeling oddly clear-headed, the icy cold water waking her up.

Panting from her exertions, the sound echoing in her empty apartment, she rose to her feet, a sense of purpose filling her. Stomping through her apartment naked, dragging the sopping wet blanket behind her. She shook her head, mumbling to herself angrily as she tossed the wet mess into her bathtub. From the corner of her eye she caught her reflection in the mirror as she turned. Fear shot through her, lasting only a moment. For a split second she didn't recognize herself, and thought someone else was in her bathroom. She looked terrible, puffy, bedraggled, basically death warmed over.

Danny did this to her, coming over for absolutely no reason. Why the hell had he even shown up anyway? Who does that? Who shows up on their ex's door to rant and rave about things that should no longer concern them? What a dick.

She could see an angry flush pinking her cheeks, her eyes glowing with indignation as she spun away from her reflection. Returning to her room, she angrily yanked on a pair of sweat pants, pulling an old college tee over her head. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for her phone. She was going to give him a piece of her mind, yell at him a little, let the fury in her limbs coalesce, spin itself into carefully worded insults.

A glint caught her eye as she scanned the room, drawing her attention to the nightstand. Her formerly jerky movements slowed, the air solidifying around her as she pushed her way to the pair of crystal earrings carefully arranged atop a hastily scrawled note.

She picked the earrings up first, almost afraid to read the note. Her stomach dropped to her toes. These weren't supposed to be here. She remembered carefully 'hiding' them under Danny's bed, arranging them just so the light would catch the gemstone if he happened to look there. She'd had no real ulterior motive when she'd left them. Only thinking of the way his eyes had lit up when he'd seen her toothbrush nestled next to his own, her pea coat hanging on the hook by his door. She'd just wanted to see that surprised little smile, that look of unguarded happiness that raced across his features when he thought she wasn't looking.

She felt the familiar sadness begin to envelope her again, tamping down the angry indignation she'd been feeling. How did he do this to her? Running the gamut of emotions this way, she felt ridiculously unstable. How could someone be overflowing with happiness one moment and then in a pit of despair the next? Angry, then sad, then hopeful, then bleak.

It was just so hard to be mad at him when she knew all of this was hurting him as well, even if it was mostly his doing. He was so misguided, and she'd tried to let him know things didn't have to be the way he pictured. They could really have something special. But her attempts at reassurance had come too late in the game, her own insecurities had held her back.

She sighed, swallowing the lump in her throat. Pointedly ignoring the flowery stationary calling out her name on the nightstand, she shuffled around her room, kicking around at the things covering her floor. Lacy straps catching in her toes as she shoved piles back and forth, watered silk brushing at the sole of her foot. She was looking for one particular thing, one thing that she'd found comfort in recently, even though it should have made her heartsick.

* * *

"Mindy, come on, they won't let me stay." Leaning forward in his chair, he reached out, catching her hand in his own, running his thumb across the back of hers. The medical tape holding her I.V. in place contrasting her smooth skin. "I'll come back in the morning, bring breakfast. We'll watch the Today show. I'll even stay for Kathy and Hoda before I head to the office."

His tone was placating, trying to erase the pouty look she had on her face. She grunted, sounding for all the world like a child, pulling her hand away from his and crossing her arms. "You didn't even try to bribe the night nurses." She looked away from him, focusing on the window. "I mean, Nurse Mackie has had a thing for you for years. You could have just batted those ridiculously sooty lashes at her, and given her one of those rare Castellano half smiles, and she would have let you do anything."

Danny snorted. "Nurse Mackie is a happily married woman with three kids. Although, it's flattering that you think my natural charm and good looks are so powerful." He reached over to her again, this time slipping his hand underneath her chin, drawing her gaze back to his. He leaned forward, dropping a quick peck on her lips. "Hey, please don't be sad. We have so much time, Mindy. And when you feel better, we can spend countless nights cuddled up talking, reading, arguing about the best way to organize your DVD collection." He smiled, arching one eyebrow. "And maybe after we've gone slow enough, other things."

Trying hard to continue pouting, a reluctant smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "I've just… I don't know." She pursed her lips swallowing.

"What is it?"

"Danny, this whole situation is so unique. I've really enjoyed getting to know this side of you. I… I'm afraid… well, it'll be different outside of this environment. I'm just gonna miss it, that's all."

He frowned, feeling guilty for the way he had behaved early on. "Mindy, look, I'm sorry about the dickish things I've done, but I don't really want to be like that anymore." He reached down, digging around in his messenger back, pausing briefly when he found what he was looking for.

He pulled out the little stuffed giraffe, running his thumb along the love worn material. He felt silly, but he needed to reassure her somehow, and he had little at his disposal at the moment. He reached over, lifting up her arm, tucking Mr. Neck in beside her. "Just, hang on to him until you feel better, ok?"

A little bloom of warmth spread throughout her chest as she looked at him. His face a mixture of bashfulness and hope. It was a sweet gesture, one that had her toes curling with pleasure, and a full blown smile spreading across her face.

A sharp tapping broke the warm and fuzzy tableau, Nurse Mackie rapping on the door face, pointing at her watch meaningfully. Danny nodded at her, getting up and slinging his back over his shoulder. He looked down at her one last time, her smile had faded somewhat, but she was no longer pouting. He dropped a light kiss on her lips. "Countless nights. I promise."

* * *

Mindy looked across the expanse of her room. It was spotless, not a thing out of place. All of her clothes folded and neatly placed in drawers, the legion of shoes scattered across her floor now standing at attention like fashionable little soldiers at the foot of her bed. She'd picked up everything, searching for the stupid little stuffed giraffe, cleaning along the way, too afraid to toss things around lest she inadvertently cover him up.

Where was it? She felt panic bubbling up, an irritated cry perched on her vocal chords, tears of frustration pricking at her eyes. The idea that she'd lost something so important to her, to Danny, was making her sick, literally. She'd stopped half a dozen times, bending over and stress gagging. This was not good.

She was tempted to rifle through her living room, look under couches, in cabinets, but she knew the thing hadn't left her bedroom since she'd had it. She'd drawn strange comfort from it when she'd felt her most heartbroken. It should have made everything worse, but it was a reminder that Danny cared about her, that whatever stupid decision he made was coming from a good place. He wanted to protect her.

She fallen asleep so many times, clutching the little giraffe to her breast, breathing in the unique smell of laundry detergent and something indefinable, a pleasant aroma that called to mind years spent sitting on shelves, being toted around in backpacks and suitcases. It was a reminder that Danny was still in her life, even if it wasn't the way she wanted.

But now, typical slob that she was, she'd gone and lost the one thing that might still have the ability to give her comfort. She went to her bed, sinking down on the edge of the mattress, finally giving into the one thing she'd been avoiding for the past two hours. With trembling hands she touched the paper on her nightstand, tracing the delicate flower patterns along the edges. She didn't want to read it, she knew it would hurt.

_I was so tempted to keep these, to have a piece of you tucked away forever, but I realize that's not fair. I can't keep clinging to you, hurting you the way I do. It's best that neither of us have reminders._

_I'm sorry._

He hadn't even signed his name. There they were again. Those two little words she'd grown to hate more than any in the entire English language. That damn apology. She crumpled the note in her hand, balling it up, the thick stationary pricking the flesh of her palm.

She was so damn mad. Everything about this pissed her off. There he was again, dictating the way they should deal with their relationship, telling her what was best. He didn't know a damn thing, he didn't understand that pulling away from her hurt more than any stupid fight they could ever get into. He didn't get that she was a fucking adult, who could make her own decisions, her own mistakes, and not lay the fault at his feet.

And what the hell was he talking about anyway? 'It's best that neither of us have reminders'? What did that even mean? It's not like she had anything…

Her thoughts dropped off, a cold realization settling on her. That son of a bitch. She hadn't lost Mr. Neck, hadn't misplaced him in her disaster of a bedroom. No. Danny had taken him back, and he'd had no right, damn it. He'd given him to her, told her to keep him until she felt better. Well she didn't fucking feel better, not at all.

Lunging forward off her bed, she dashed through her apartment, slipping on a worn out pair of flip flops before she skidded out into the hall. The door slammed behind her and she ran to the elevator, keys jingling in her hands. Danny had to stop this nonsense, he couldn't keep giving her things she so desperately wanted and then taking them away, especially not under the misguided belief that he was doing what was best. She was going to set him straight, and she couldn't wait another second.


	6. Soaked to the Skin

**A/N: So, I had slightly different plans for the end of this story, perhaps drawing it out into two chapters, but instead I just made this one slightly longer, and I do believe it's the final chapter. There may be a epilogue in a day or so.**

She'd been shortsighted, not grabbing an umbrella, running through the streets in the pouring rain, losing one flip flop blocks away from Danny's building. She looked like a drowned mouse, standing outside his door like this. She tried to pretend the uncontrollable shivering from the cold, goose bumps making her skin feel taut, was actually the rage she'd felt earlier, vibrating through her.

Her teeth chattered as she banged on his door, the skin of her knuckles scraping against the rough surface. It wasn't enough. She curled her fingers into a fist, slamming down on the surface, wincing as the kinetic energy in her motions reverberated back through her limbs. She opened her mouth to call out his name. "Open the damn door, jerk!" Close enough.

He was probably asleep, dead to the world, tucked away in his perfectly made bed, the right side smooth and wrinkle free. Snoring softly against his fluffed up pillow, one hand on top of the covers, twitching slightly whenever his dreams became unpleasant. The thought clogged her throat with unreleased sobs.

She banged harder on the door, hoping the sound was loud enough to travel through the motionless air of his apartment, pass through his bedroom door and land on his ears. She choked out a little cry, half gasp half yell, clearing her throat of useless emotion. "Danny! Wake up!"

She cursed herself, wishing she'd grabbed her phone before heading out into the night. She'd call him and let it ring and ring until he finally picked up, or leave dozens of irate voicemails. Anything would be better than standing here, locked out, freezing her ass off.

She drew her arms close to her chest, crossing them over her sternum, trying desperately to ease the tension in her chest, the little ache along her rib cage. Nothing helped and it pissed her off. She kicked at the door, yelping sharply as her toes made contact with the hard surface. She hopped around, trying desperately not to cry.

The door swung open, and there was Danny, a wrinkly white v-neck tee clinging to his chest, flannel pajamas bottoms just hanging off his hips. He looked at her as she awkwardly held her foot in her hand, wobbling slightly on her uninjured side. His eyes widened, taking in the strange sight before him, unable to totally process what he was seeing. Worry being the first thing that washed over him, he took a quick step forward, gently laying his hands on her shoulders, pulling her upright again. "Are you alright?" Concern made his voice soft, breathless even, and it pissed Mindy off.

She shoved at him, dropping her foot to the floor and pushing past him, stomping into his apartment. Her head bobbed back and forth, casting her gaze curiously about his things. She strode into his living room. "Where is it?"

He followed close behind her, unsure of how to react to her energetic irritation. "What?"

"You know what. You took it." She stopped in front of his couch, frowning as she took in the wallowed out seat cushions, topped with a gray sheet, his pillow laying against the brown leather. Her hand lit on the soft cotton, lingering in the hollow made by his head. Gathering her resolve once again, she fisted her hand in the pillow case, tossing it over her shoulder, grasping the sheet and shaking it out. It hung suspended in the air for a second, before fluttering to the floor.

Grunting, she spun around, headed toward his bedroom, stopping momentarily when her lone flip flop caught on the edge of his rug. She kicked away the shoe. It skittered across the hardwood floor, sliding under his bookshelf. She padded into his room, shivering again. "God, Danny, it's like a frozen tundra in here."

She paused, taking in the mess in front of her. His clothes were scattered all over the place, his bed unmade, the linens tossed carelessly to the side. "Was there an earthquake or something? What the hell, Danny?"

She slowed her pace, confused by the things she was seeing. Danny was sleeping on his couch? Why on earth would he do that? And his room was a mess, which seemed inherently out of character. She felt the anger swirling inside of her begin to escape her, filtering out into the silent atmosphere in little wisps.

She grasped at it, holding it close to her, setting her jaw as she scanned the room around her. There! Mr. Neck was sitting on Danny's dresser, leaning crookedly against the mirror. She stomped over to it, swiping the little giraffe off the dresser, her anger returning to her full force. "Who said you could take this?" She gestured to him

He looked at her, his mouth hanging open, his eyes soft. He looked like a little lost puppy and it tore at her heart. He shook his head, running his hands through his hear. "Damn it, Mindy. What the fuck are you doing?" He crossed his arms, tucking his hands underneath his biceps. "It's mine, ok? I took it because it's mine."

The fire began to build in her again. She clutched the stuffed animal to her chest, her eyes pooling with tears. "You can't do that, Danny. You're supposed to be a man of your word." The words were strangled, spoken through clenched teeth. "You can't give me something, and then just take it away. _Without even asking!_"

Danny took a step forward, but she put a hand out, staying his motion. "Look, I get it, it is what it is, Danny. We're not together, and it sucks. I mean it really fucking sucks, but it's a decision you made, and I can live with that." Her voice broke on the last words, tears falling from her eyes as she squeezed them shut. "But you can't go back on your word, Danny. You said I could keep him until I felt better." She closed the space between them. "And, I don't fucking feel better."

She shook her head, taking a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. She put on a fake face, smiling through her tears. "So, I'm just gonna take this back, and I'll be on my way." She darted around him, headed toward the door, trying not to shatter into a million pieces. This had been a mistake.

"Mindy." Her name, uttered under his breath, feeling it catch in her throat. "Peter told me. He told me all about 'The Cinderella' and I didn't leave Mr. Neck there just so you'd have to come back to me, ok? I'm not trying to trap you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

She turned back, to him, snapping her head around almost too quickly, her hair whipping across her face. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You waited _one _day before concocting a plan to get Cliff back. You cut off all your hair to win Casey over. You always go after what you want, Mindy. Always." He sounded desperate, the ghost of a sob clinging to his words. "_Weeks _have passed, and nothing. You had this thing all along, this ready excuse you could have used to show up on my door, to rehash things, and you didn't. I'm not stupid."

"No, you're just a fucking idiot. You're not Casey, or Cliff, Danny."

He turned away from her, staring at the wall, clenching his fists at his side. "I know."

"You don't know! You don't know a god damned thing. _Guys don't break up with girls they secretly want to be with!_" She bitterly mimicked his Staten accent. "That was your phrasing, your belief. You're a terrible fucking liar Danny, you can't blame me for taking you at your word."

His jaw dropped. "I was upset, and you—"

She interrupted him. "And you have such a _short_ memory. I _left_ Cliff for you, tossed that stupid scheme to win him back right out the window, because you were offering me something I wanted so much more, something I'd never even entertained the possibility of having." Her indignation drained away, the glare on her face crumpling as she dissolved into tears. "And then you took it away." She was hiccupping now.

He closed the space between them, taking her face in his hands, much in the same way he'd done on the back of the plane, caressing her cheek with his thumb, this time brushing away a tear. He leaned in to kiss her, but hesitated, brushing his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled in the millimeter between them. There were so many words, piling up inside of him, ready to tumble out in a jumbled mess.

She was soaked, her skin cold against his fingers, the wet fabric of her tee shirt plastered against her skin. She shivered as he ran one hand down the column of her throat. He pressed his lips against hers, trying desperately to transfer his own feverish heat to her. Kissing her gently, thoroughly, he held her to him like she was porcelain.

She didn't release the stuffed animal, didn't string her arms around his neck and pull him close like she'd done so many times in the past. Her arms remained where they'd been, crossed over her chest like armor. He pulled away from her lips, trying to look into her eyes, they darted back and forth, avoiding his gaze. Finally she just closed them.

He brushed her damp hair away from her face, dropping feather light kisses against her temples, the corner of her mouth, her eyelids, he tried to coax her gaze back to him. Opening her eyes slowly, she gave him access to the wide pools, full of questions. He nodded, feeling silly because she hadn't actually said anything, but still compelled to reassure her.

He felt the tension seep away from her as she pulled away from him, silently tiptoeing barefoot across the hardwood to his nightstand. She gingerly tucked Mr. Neck between his lamp and alarm clock before turning back to him, looking down, almost bashfully.

Something broke inside of him, whatever part of his soul that had pined for her in their weeks apart was set free. Dragging her back into his arms, he kissed her once again, this time allowing his hands free range over her body, slipping under the damp material of her shirt and pulling it over her head.

She was still cold, the air chilly against the moisture on her skin. He skimmed his hand across her breast, sucking in a breath when he felt her nipple harden under his touch. Shuddering as her cold fingers traced their way under his shirt, along his rib cage, he yanked the garment over his head, dragging her to him. The feel of her chilly skin pressed up against the furnace-like heat of his own was like a drug he'd been denied for too long.

He pushed her against the bed, the backs of her knees meeting the edge of the mattress before she collapsed softly onto the soft gray sheet. Lifting her slightly, he ridded her of the last scrap of clothing between them. Hands at her hips, he pushed her up on the bed, kneeling over her as he dropped kisses along her sternum, trailing downward he traced the soft skin around her navel with the tip of his nose.

He wanted to go slow, to give her the things she deserved, to put his adoration on display. She slipped her hands down, running her fingers through his hair, her touch lingering on the tops of his ears. She pulled at him, dragging him back across her body, holding him tight. She drew warmth from him, her skin hot, no longer clinging to the clammy coldness it had previously been suffused with.

He drew back from her, a faint little whimper sending a sharp stab of need through him. He quickly shucked off his remaining clothing, returning to her, paying close attention to the skin he'd so recently thought he'd never know again.

He wanted to be gentle this time, but he couldn't resist lightly raking his teeth across her skin, a zing of pleasure hitting him in the gut when she gasped. He twisted a lock of hair around his index finger, tugging it playfully as he stared at her. She smiled, the upward curve of her lips mirroring his own.

She pushed at him, switching positions. She peppered kisses all over his face, his collar bones, his sternum. He shifted, laughing underneath her touch when she found his own erect nipples, tweaking them mischievously before she dropped kisses there too.

Drawing short manicured nails across his skin, she traced the line of his hip bone, finding her way to what seemed to be the very core of his heat. Her fingers wrapped dexterously around him, and she felt powerful with the heat pulsing under her fingertips. Sliding her palm along his length, she smiled when he groaned. He twitched beneath her touch, impatient for her.

Swinging her legs up over her him, she settled on top of his thighs, continuing to work at him. His hands gripped her hips, squeezing in unison with her strokes. He was so close, but he didn't want it like this, he tried to grunt out her name, but his vocal chords wouldn't cooperate. Instead, he shifted, sitting up to meet her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He flipped her around, pinning her to the mattress, a surprised little squeak issuing from her.

He buried his face in her neck, sucking hungrily at her almond scented skin. Little shivers of warmth darted between her legs, moisture pooling at the apex. She loved the feel of his hips against the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her legs wrapped around him eagerly, pulling him in closer.

Taking the hint, he reached down, guiding himself into her. He did it slowly, relishing the heat slipping against him, pleasure twisting almost painfully in his abdomen. He rocked into her, going deeper, losing himself in her. She grinded against him, whimpering in pleasure.

He lapped at her skin, panting into the hollow of her neck, inhaling her scent again, this time the fear of losing her didn't hold him back. He sighed against her, whispering unintelligible words against her skin. She was moaning against him, one hand clutching at his back as the other threaded through his hair.

Only days ago, he'd thought he'd spend the rest of his life looking for someone who fit against him like this. He'd been dreading a life spent fruitlessly searching for this. Love bubbled up in his chest, and he could taste the words on the tip of his tongue, but knew they shouldn't be gasped in the throes of passion. He should take her to the top of the Empire State Building, buy her a dozen roses, or a single long stem rose, play her favorite song as he recited some dramatic monologue.

She arched against him, her damp skin pressing tightly against his chest as she clenched around him, a low moan eking out of her. The sound vibrating against his ear proved to be the final straw, he thrust into her one last time, calling out her name, saying the words he'd been holding in so tightly. "I love you."

He relaxed against her, floating down from the impossible high he'd just achieved. The reality of what he'd just revealed making his chest tight as he panted against her. Her hands, lightly skimming his sweaty back, made him feel self-conscious. He pressed his lips to her collar bone one last time before rolling away from her.

She shifted, rising up on her elbow to gaze at him. He could feel the smile on her face. "You love me?" He could hear the excitement in her voice, a slightly trembling edge. She rested her palm over his heart, and it picked up speed.

He reached for her, grabbing her wrist. "Mindy, wait." Suddenly all the things he'd been keeping inside of him needed to come out, he needed to say the words that had sat in his chest for weeks. A small frown graced her features, putting a tiny wrinkle in the middle of her forehead. He reached over, pulling her back to him, kissing her soundly. "I really want this."

She smiled against his shoulder, slipping her hand down further, grazing him. He responded immediately, and she giggled. "Hmm, I can tell. Maybe you're not as old as I thought."

He laughed. "No, I mean, this." He gestured futilely between them, unable to be more articulate. "And I'm an insecure asshole who doesn't deserve you."

She pulled back, looking down at him thoughtfully. "Danny… don't…" She stretched out along his length, resting her chin on his chest, looking up at him. "You deserve so much more than you think. I just wish you gather up the courage to say what it is you want."

"You."

"Really now? How specifically? One night stands? Booty calls?" She took a deep breath. "A secret girlfriend?"

There was hurt in the last question, and she fought the urge to look away. Holding his gaze, she saw regret flash in his eyes. "No, Min. I want dinner dates, romantic movies, arguments over vacation destinations." His hands set to tracing circles across her bare back. He swallowed, ready to lay his soul bare. "I wasn't lying when I said I need you. You _are_ my best friend. I regret that I'm such a damaged jerk, that I let fear pull me away from you." He touched her face reverently. "Mindy, I want everything, forever."

She sighed against him. "You can have Mr. Neck back."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "I love you, Danny. You're what I need to feel better."

He swallowed, the fear he'd felt so many times in regard to her, returning briefly. "I might make you feel worse, sometimes." He clutched her to him. "Never stop scheming, never give up on me."

"Never."


End file.
